God You Made The World All Wrong
by Always Hopeful
Summary: ONESHOT! COMPLETE! Songfic to God You Made The World All Wrong from Notre Dame de Paris. Erik is saddened by the fact that beauty to the rich belongs....


**Disclaimer: I own nothing and therefore I am not Gaston Leroux or Andrew Lloyd Webber or even the one who wrote the song, which comes from Notre Dame de Paris.**

**A/N: I got this idea from a friend who wanted to do a similar story. Thank you to Lenora.**

**God You Made The World All Wrong…**

Erik sat there upon the roof of the opera house, watching Raoul and Christine locked in a lover's embrace. Oh how hurt and angry he felt. She would never hold onto him in that way. He felt his heart breaking with each passing second. He wanted to cry out to her, the young woman who had won his heart long ago. He wanted nothing more than to rush at Raoul and run his sword through the man who, in one foul swoop, had stolen the one treasure that was most precious to him.

But most of all, Erik wanted to rid himself of this incredible hurt he felt. He wanted to lash out and release the anger which was beating just below the surface of his skin. He was angry and he did not know what to do about it. For so long, he had had control over the opera house; for so long, he had gotten everything he had wanted. But ever since the new managers had arrived, bringing along their new patron, things had spiraled downward in an uncontrollable manner.

_God You made the world all wrong, I'm so ugly; he's so fine.  
I would love her my life long, but she never would be mine._

As Raoul stood their and proclaimed their love to one another, he felt a terrible beast roar within his soul and fly around within him, mixing his insides and tearing at his heart. He could barely suppress the shout of anguish from escaping his throat and flying past his lips. It was all he could do to not run from his hiding spot and to shed blood. Sorrowfully, he turned his face upward. 'God, why? You have made the world all wrong?' And he felt that was utter truth. Tentatively, he touched his white mask with the tips of his fingers. He was so ugly with his deformity. He knew that if he was to ever be defeated by anything, it would be his hideousness. This disgusting, twisted thing that he called a face caused him more pain than any person who beat him could. The pain itself was not physical, but emotional. He was scarred and far past what one could see.

Raoul, on the other hand, was handsome and whole. He had no deformities to speak of. He was handsome and without flaws. No wonder Christine was attracted to him. For who could love a monster such as Erik, the phantom of the opera? Even if she were to believe his own proclamations of love, she would never feel the same for him that he felt for her. He was beginning to feel that she was just like all the others: obsessed with beauty and wealth.

He mentally shook his head. No, Christine was not like that. She couldn't be like that. She simply couldn't be and he would never believe that of her. She would never be his.

_  
Now he owns her heart and soul, without giving her a thing.  
And she thinks he'll make her whole, with the love she thinks he'll bring._

Sadly, he watched as their lips touched in their first kiss. The kissed showed everything Erik ever felt for the beautiful woman. He loved her more than she could ever know or understand, and this made his heart break even more. He now felt as though his heart was crumbling and falling into the pit of his stomach. As Christine and Raoul met yet again in a second, more passionate, kiss, Erik felt Christine's dainty footsteps stomp all over the scattered pieces as though they were undesirable insects.

_  
She will lie down at his touch, and believe his lies with pride.  
It's his face she loves so much, she can't see what's deep inside._

When Christine and Raoul left the rooftop, the former begging the latter to bring his carriage around to the front, Erik's world seemed to zoom in and out of focus. The door closed behind the two young people and Erik was left alone once again, with nothing but the cold snow and forlorn stone gargoyles to keep him company.

Bending over, he picked up the rose he had given not even an hour ago. She had dropped it carelessly upon the snow covered rooftop without a second thought as she lost herself in all the falsehoods sprouting, Erik felt, from Raoul's mouth. He brought the rose up to his lips and kissed it, tears falling from his eyes. Could Christine be so heartless? Could she really be so naïve as to follow this young man who would use her and leave her? Did she not realize she would mean nothing to the arrogant, incompetent patron of the Opera Populaire once he had had his way with her?

Running to the edge of the opera house, he screamed out at the top of his lungs. Why couldn't she see what was deep inside of this man, this Raoul? Why? Why? Why?

Ooooooooooo

Erik watched from the shadows of the opera house as all the happy men and women danced at the grand masquerade Andre and Firmin were throwing. Could they possibly believe that a three month reprieve could prove that he, the Phantom of the Opera, was actually gone? 'What fools these mortals be,' he thought.

Then, his eyes caught the one person he longed to see. She was beautiful in that dress and with her hair up in that way. Well, he always thought that she was beautiful, but tonight was especially true. Suddenly, the warmth that had flooding him from head to toe as he watched her glide around the dance floor ran ice cold as he saw the man who held her in his arms. Erik's upper lip curled up in disgust at the very sight of the man.__

God You made the world all wrong, he's so rich; and I'm so poor.  
He will make her life a song; he will give her nothing more.

Soon, very soon, the young viscount would learn that his wealth could and help him get anything he wanted. The spoiled little brat would learn that money could not, _would_ not, win Christine's heart. Though, Erik thought, it seemed highly unlikely that her heart was what he was really after. The need and want to create perfect music would ultimately win out. He was sure of it.

_  
God You made the world all wrong, let her have her shining knight.  
Beauty to the rich belongs, not to us outside the light._

For a fleeting moment, Erik wondered if perhaps he shouldn't just let her go? What if Raoul really did love her? Erik shook his head and that fleeting moment was gone. What was he thinking? It was ridiculous; it was absurd. Raoul was only proclaiming his love for Christine because it suited him well at the moment. He did not want to offer all the same things Erik wanted to offer her.

_  
I am just an ugly stain that the world just wants to hide.  
God You gave me so much pain, were You ever on my side?  
_

Still, he could not shake the lonely feeling he felt as he watched all the other dancers. They twirled past him in a flurry of laughter and colors, not realizing he was there, watching them secretly from the shadows. How could they know? How could they _ever_ know what it was like to be an outcast? To be cast aside by society because of something he could not control? They did not know what it was like. None of them ever could. In their minds, there was no use, nor was there room, for deformed beings. They loved beautiful things… They loved people like Christine and Raoul, who would no doubt produce even more beautiful people. People like Erik were easily forgotten, forced to live lives of fear, despair and, above all, self-loathing.

Ooooooooooo

Erik watched sorrowfully as Christine hurriedly relieved Raoul of the magical lasso. Did she have any idea how each movement to free her lover was slashing at his heart? True, he was allowing it to happen. And yet, for one crazy second, he had hoped that she would not accept his offer. But it was with a bruised and battered heart that he realized he could not force her any longer to choose against her will. He must allow her to make her own choices, no matter how devastating it is to him.

_  
God You made the world all wrong, I have nothing; he has all.  
But I'll tell her all along he won't be there is she falls._

All his attempts to keep Christine close to him had failed. And now Raoul truly had it all. He had the looks, the wealth, and, finally, Christine. There was nothing he, Erik, could do. He had tried and failed. What was he to do now?

_  
He was born to silk and lace, to make love and to make war.  
I was born without a face; God, what did you make me for?_

It seemed that Raoul was created to succeed at anything and everything he attempted. Those fancy airs and fancy graces were what really mattered in this world. He was suited to the life of a hero. Women were naturally drawn to him, whether he wanted all of them to or not. Then it led him to wonder: What was the phantom made for? What was he, Erik, supposed to do in a world that did not love nor want him?

_  
Tell me what side God is on, those whose silver buys the host?  
Or those who pray to God alone, day and night, this Holy Ghost_

Money ruled the universe for money ruled all. People were slaves to fashion, gold, and silver. How sorry it was that those who wanted it most, but not for corruption, would likely never achieve such things?

_  
Can this Jesus we adore save his blessing only for.  
Those three kings of gold and myrrh, and leave the shepherds at the door?  
_

With one last look as Christine and Raoul made their way out with the boat, Erik heaved a heavy side and made his way through the mirror he had just smashed. Never again would he look upon that haunting face. She was gone forever from his life and he would do the world a favor by disappearing. For who would ever love or miss the infamous…

Phantom of the Opera?

_  
God You made the world so wrong, I'm so ugly; he's so fine.  
I will love her my life long.  
But she never will be mine._

**A/N2: Okay, so I'm sorry if this isn't that good, but it's my first actual Phantom of the Opera fic. So, if you like it, or if you have CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, let me know. Always Hopeful**


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